Winter Door (22 page)

There was no telling how long the raging storm would last. Rage paced for a while longer, but eventually she grew tired and got back under the thermal blankets with Billy. He fell asleep almost at once, head in her lap. She kissed him gently and thought what a fool she had been to set off, knowing a bad storm was approaching. Hadn’t Mam warned her a million times how dangerous the cold could be? She had been so set on discovering if the bramble gate was still there that she had been deaf to common sense.

She wished Billy could talk to her because she would have liked to hear what he thought about what had happened in Bleak. He was sure to have some clever, unusual idea about what had become of Elle and the wizard. Thinking about Bleak was rather like having been forced to put a book down halfway through. Part of Rage was longing to pick it up and read some more. But she was also anxious about her uncle. What if he returned and found her note? He would be frantic. She could only pray he had been trapped in town by the storm. She worried for a while, then she snuffed out the candle carefully and slept.

A sound brought her back to wakefulness. It was Billy, scratching at the door. She hobbled to it and opened its tiny shutter. The storm had passed and the sky was clear, but it was dark. She must have been unconscious for ages. She closed the shutter and opened the door. Snow piled up against it slid into the hut. The world beyond was a dazzling silver-and-black landscape. Rage’s skin prickled at the thought of walking through the moonlit world.

“Billy,” she said, “let’s go home.”

Billy gave a wriggling, puppy-like leap that made her laugh. She went back into the hut, pushed her thermos and the remaining sandwiches into her pack, and buckled it closed. She shoveled the snow impatiently out of the hut and dragged the door closed, and then they set off. The snow was so deep that she sank up to her hips in it, but it was not hard-packed, so she could move quite easily. She marveled that so much snow had fallen in just a few hours.

Billy raced ahead, plowing a narrow furrow through the powder snow and then circling back in his own excitement. Rage thought the moonlit landscape the loveliest sight she had ever seen, but she had little energy for anything but walking. At first, brushing through the powder had been easy, but there was enough of a drag that her legs began to ache. Worse, she noticed more dark clouds on the horizon.

Once they had climbed the hill above the dam, Rage stopped to rest for a bit, feeding the rest of the sandwiches to Billy and drinking the cocoa herself. She wiped her forehead and winced to find a sore place on her temple. Fingering it, she found a sizable bump with some grazing. She must have hit her head, then. Knowing that made her feel slightly better. At least she hadn’t just stupidly lain down to sleep. Of course, she would not have fallen at all if she had sensibly stayed at home.

The moon was setting as they came over the rise and saw the roof of Winnoway. And not a moment too soon, for there was a rumble of thunder, and the gathering clouds merged, plunging the world back into darkness. Rage ran the last bit of the way, relieved to see that there were no lights on. That meant her uncle must have stayed the night in town.

When Rage got inside the house, she realized how ravenously hungry she was. Despite the chocolate and sandwiches, she felt as if she had not eaten for days. Annoyingly, the fire was completely out, but it did not take long to start another. She stuck some frozen pies in the oven and went to get warm in a bath. Undressing, she inspected her hands and feet and was relieved to find that the only damage was a few chilblains that reddened and itched as she climbed into the water.

Sinking up to her neck in hot, soapy water, she gave a sigh of contentment. She slipped right under to wet her hair and lie still, enjoying the feeling of being warm all over. When she surfaced, Billy was peering anxiously at her. She laughed and sat up to wash her hair, then she immersed herself again to wash off the suds. She would have liked to soak longer, but she was too hungry and tired. Toweling vigorously, she dressed in warm flannel pajamas and Mam’s old red fleece dressing gown and padded back to her bedroom to don some thick socks. Then she rescued the pies from the oven, and she and Billy ate them in front of the stove with relish.

She told Billy all that had happened in Bleak, then she thought again how lucky it was that she and Billy were safe and Uncle Samuel need never know what had happened. She wondered if he had called, and hoped he would manage to get back in time to take her down to the hospital for a visit with Mam. Luckily, they were not supposed to move her until later in the afternoon. Belatedly, Rage remembered that she had pulled the phone line out of the jack. She got up to connect it and was startled to find it was pushed in already.

Rage frowned and wondered if she hadn’t completely pulled it out, or had just imagined doing it. Then she shrugged and checked the answering machine. To her relief, there were no messages from either Mrs. Somersby or her uncle, but there was one missed call. She checked the clock. It was just past eight, and that was pretty early for a Sunday morning, but she was too impatient to wait. Maybe it had been her uncle calling from a hotel. Rage dialed three numbers and listened warily, hoping that the redial sequence would not connect her to Mrs. Somersby.

A phone began to ring, and a moment later a woman’s voice said, “Hello, Margery Stiles here.”

Rage blinked. Stiles was the last name of Logan’s foster parents. That meant Logan must have been the last caller. “Uh, I know it’s pretty early but…I was wondering if I can talk to Logan. We go to school together and—”

“Oh! You must be Rage,” Mrs. Stiles interrupted. “I hope you don’t mind if I call you that? It’s just that Logan does.”

“N-n-no,” Rage stammered, startled to hear that Logan would refer to her in conversation with his foster parents. It hadn’t sounded as if he talked much to them at all, but maybe the whole move and possibility of a new school had broken down some barriers between them.

“Rage,” Mrs. Stiles was saying, “I should like very much to meet you. Since Logan has been…well, he has been so much
happier
lately, and I believe it is at least in part due to you.”

Rage didn’t know what to say. “Thank you,” she said at last, feeling embarrassed and awkward.

“You must come to dinner sometime soon. Or perhaps for lunch. I know you live out of town and this winter is making travel so difficult. Sometimes I do feel that spring will never come, but of course it must.” She gave a light laugh. “Oh, listen to me rabbiting on and you want to speak to Logan. I should have said right away that he is out. In fact, he was gone already when I went in this morning. I would have been worried that he had gone back to his old wandering ways—my husband used to call him our lone wolf—but he’s a good lad, and lately he has really settled down. Anyway, I will let him know you called as soon as he comes in.”

“It doesn’t matter, I’ll see him Monday at school.”

“You mean Wednesday, don’t you?” Mrs. Stiles laughed. “Because today and tomorrow are holidays, aren’t they?”

Rage had forgotten about the days off again, but what was Mrs. Stiles talking about, saying today was a holiday? Sundays were always holidays. “Oh yes,” Rage said vaguely, not wanting to prolong the conversation. Mrs. Stiles was nice but pretty talkative. “Well, maybe he can call tonight.”

They said goodbye. Rage hung up and added a big log of hardwood to the stove, then flopped into the chair. The storm outside had grown in strength, and the lights were dimming every few minutes—an indicator that the power would soon fail. Rage got up and switched on the radio. If it was storming this badly now, there was every chance her uncle would cancel the hospital visit. At first, there was only a lot of white noise. She twitched the dial minutely, fishing for the elusive signal.

“…worst storms to hit since…” The sound faded out and in again. “…the minister will meet with other ministers, town officials, and emergency services personnel to discuss strategies…” The voice dissolved into static and Rage thought that it must be a pretty drastic storm if all of those official-sounding people were going to meet on a Sunday. She gave up on the radio and went back to the fire. The log had begun to catch, but rather than risk the fire going out again, she decided to really make sure before closing the flue. She had half hoped her uncle would be home before she went to bed, but when the power went out, she decided it was time. She shut the flue and wrote a brief note by candlelight telling Uncle Samuel that she had gone to bed, to stop him waking her when he came home and dragging her back from Bleak.

She left the note by the phone, on top of her uncle’s, and pushed her earlier note into her pocket. Then she carried the candle through to her bedroom. The heater was out, but she would be warm enough with Billy sleeping beside her. She patted the bed and let him get comfortable, then she reached across to blow out the candle. She looked at the clock beside her bed, which showed the day as well as time.

It read
Monday
!

Rage gasped, her mind whirling. If today was Monday, then she hadn’t just slept a few hours in the hut before Billy woke her. She must have been unconscious all of Saturday and Saturday night and most of Sunday and Sunday night! She must have concussed herself when she fell. No wonder Billy had gone crazy when she finally got up and spoke to him.

But what had happened to her uncle? Was it possible the amount of snow that had fallen had really made the roads impassable and he had ended up staying Saturday and Sunday nights in town? But why hadn’t he called? The answering machine had been on. Unless the phones had been down. But if that was so, how had Logan got through?

Monday.
Rage swallowed a sudden, hard lump in her throat. Uncle Samuel would have gone to the hospital alone to explain that Rage wouldn’t be able to come after all, because of the weather. Tears burned in her eyes at the idea of the doctors telling Mam that she hadn’t come. For once, she hoped her mother had been too dazed and sleepy to understand properly. Mam must be in Leary Hospital now.

She lay back against the pillow, but now she was so upset that she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to sleep at all. She closed her eyes and imagined Nomadiel and Rally, Mr. Walker, Thaddeus, and Puck. She pictured the big, bare room they had been given at the settlement of Sorrow, trying to see every detail in her mind’s eye. She saw herself and Billy dressed for winter, and wearing well-filled rucksacks. In the moment before she fell asleep, she wondered if they had found any sign of Elle yet.

Rage opened her eyes and found she and Billy were standing side by side in a tiny room. It was lit by a single candle carried by one of two filthy youths who gaped at them in shock.

“Demons!” one of them said in a frightened voice, his voice squeaking at the end. He was probably younger than Rage, though he carried a knife in his spare hand and looked as if he knew how to use it.

“We ought to kill them before they enchant us,” the other hissed.

Rage wondered how they could extricate themselves from the mess she had landed them in! Billy was sniffing the air, a curious expression on his face.

“They are not demons,” said a familiar voice behind them. Rage gave a cry of delight and whirled to face Elle.

“I thought I could smell you, but your scent has changed!” Billy said. He flung his arms about the tall, smiling dog-woman.

Elle laughed and pounded his back. “You smell different, too, Billy Thunder. You have grown, and not just in stature!” She turned to Rage, who gaped. Elle wore grubby trousers and a filthy sweater, and had smears of dirt on her face and on the tips of her pointed ears. Her golden hair, once very short, now hung below her waist. It was matted and carelessly pulled back in a rough ponytail, but it caught the candlelight like a spider web of spun gold and made the perfect foil for her impossible, radiant beauty. How had she become so beautiful without really changing? Rage wondered incredulously.

“You have grown, too, darling heart,” Elle said, her deep-set almond eyes tender. She gathered Rage into her arms and held her tightly. Rage clung to her, her eyes filling with tears. Dimly she was aware that the earth was quaking again.

“Oh, Elle, I missed you so much,” she whispered, feeling the dog-woman’s muscles beneath the loose clothes.

“I missed you, too. Both of you, though I have been happy in Valley,” Elle said, releasing them both. From the corner of her eye, Rage noticed that the two boys were regarding them with wonder.

“These are summerlanders, too, Lady Elle?” one of them asked reverently.

“They are my friends,” Elle said firmly. She looked back to Rage. “You dream-traveled here?”

Rage nodded.

Elle shook her head. “Rue spoke of this power that let you visit her at the heart lake, but I did not know that Billy Thunder had it, too.”

“I brought him with me,” Rage said. “I was trying to bring us to Mr. Walker and the others, but I thought of you just before I fell asleep.”

“You mean to say that Mr. Walker is here?” Elle asked eagerly.

Rage nodded. “When I was with them last, they had got your scent, but I guess they haven’t found you yet.”

Elle’s eyes flashed with amusement. “Nor will they find me unless I choose it. Which I do, now that I know who seeks me.” Elle turned to the boy who had spoken. “Lod, go and find if other strangers have been seen in any of the settlements about Null.” Rage broke in to explain that they had been staying in Sorrow. “That makes it even easier,” Elle said. She turned back to the boy. “Go to Sorrow and seek them out. One will be a small man with ears like mine, and there will be a faun, too. A man with goat’s horns and legs—”

“Gilbert didn’t come,” Rage interrupted again, to explain that he had broken his leg and had been unable to come through the winter door.

Elle shook her head. “Poor Gilbert. Well, then find the small man and bring him and his companions to me. But be careful, we do not wish the Stormlord to know what we are about. We have yet to learn who informs upon those taken by his gray fliers.”